


Catalyst

by Prestidigitonium



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Angst, Character Death, Child Death, Death, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Good Severus Snape, Grief/Mourning, Healer Severus Snape, Healing, Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape Friendship, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Slow Burn, Tags Contain Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-09-24 14:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20359705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prestidigitonium/pseuds/Prestidigitonium
Summary: Torn between sides in the midst of a brewing war, Severus can rely only on himself. No headmaster can fix the mistakes he has made, but now it seems, Severus has ensured the Dark Lord’s victory.





	1. Gryffindor Courage

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling
> 
> Enjoy

“_Stupefy!” _The wand trembled in her hand as the stunner left her lips, red sparks trailing over her words as they erupted from the wood clasped tightly in her fingers. To her ears, her voice sounded rough, unfamiliar. It didn’t carry the Gryffindor courage she always believed she had. As the red sparks fizzled against the shield charm, she realized she didn’t _feel_ brave either.

The stunner came again, sparking from the tip of her willow wand, her words betraying her intent. She was good at charms – no – she was _fantastic _at charms. Yet, in this moment, she found herself incapable of casting nonverbal spells. She was rendered dumb by the scarlet red eyes that bore through her, the waxen skin that was just visible beneath the shadows of night, stark against the dark robes that shrouded him. And his wand, the wood light even in his pale hands as it cut through the air, spells slicing across her skin.

Her own shield came up, bursting into a bubble of protection around her, You-Know-Who’s own spell shuddering against it. He was quicker than her, firing curse after curse before her mind could form the next, let alone her tongue. And they were growing close, much too close to the room at the end of the hall.

It was why he was here; she had known it all along, and she had done little to keep him at bay. “_Confri-“ _her throat constricted in terror_. _Terror at what was to come. Terror at the idea that she was fighting alone. That the attacks of James had not only diminished, but stopped completely. That he was lying somewhere on the floor below in broken form, badly hurt…or worse. Terror at the knowledge that if she didn’t buffet You-Know-Who’s attacks, Harry would be next. Harry.

Another spell shot from the end of his wand, brilliant green, the vibrancy of it illuminating the black hallway and the fear carved into her features. A spell she didn’t need to hear to recognize. She lurched to the side, the killing curse passing her with a surge of energy that sent chills across her skin.

“_Expulso!” _Lily roared, the ferocity of the Gryffindor inside her bursting forth. She saw his shield spring to life, the distortion it caused in the air around them the only sign it was there. The wall beside him crumpled beneath the impact of her spell, a spell that was never aimed at him in the first place. The bricks that comprised the home she loved tumbled free from their places, exploded into bits and showered them each with dust. Burying him.

She stumbled backwards, her eyes remaining on the rubble only long enough to see that he was immobile, trapped beneath her destruction. In the silence created by his incapacitation, the screams of spells coming to an end, she could hear wails.

They shrieked into the night, the lungs emitting them having grown ragged. Cries coated in agony, in dread. Her heart was held tightly inside Harry’s torment, rattling against the cage he kept it in. It pounded painfully against the walls of her chest. Just a few steps more. A few steps more and they could disapparate, could escape.

Lily reached the door, forcing it inwards as she barreled through the entryway, towards her son. It slammed against the wall, the wood rattling in the frame and frightening the boy further.

“Harry, my Harry.” Her words were tight, little more than a whisper as if they themselves might free You-Know-Who. Her skin grazed against the tips of his fingers, silken beneath her own. “Mummy’s got you.”

“Foolish mudblood.” The words were drawled behind her, laced with the murder he had meant all along.

She turned on the spot, anticipating the yank behind her bellybutton, the release of tension as they were spirited away. Instead, she felt her hand slip from her son’s tightened grasp. She felt her body collide with the carpet below. Felt her lips mutter one last spell before a scream was torn from her lungs. Darkness invaded and she moved no more.

* * *

Severus heard the hum of a passing train, the rumble as it moved across the tracks just beyond his single paned – and much too thin – window. It was common, along with the blares of horns on the London streets below. The sound of a city too restless to quiet. He’d grown used to the noise, waking only enough to readjust his position and fall back into a gentle slumber.

Wakefulness came easy for him. It had for nearly four years now, although he’d only lived beside the track for three. It wasn’t the shouts of vagrants below, the sound of tires skimming along streets in need of repair. It wasn’t even the drone of the train’s horn that rang through ungodly hours of the night. It was his job that kept him awake, or rather, his foolishness.

It was the fear that his master would call. Fear that he would spend his evenings sprawled across the cold floor of headquarters. That he would be beaten and bruised for a transgression he didn’t commit. Although, these days, he supposed it was more likely the Dark Lord _had_ found him out. Had discovered that Severus was working against him. A result that would end in a fate worse than death. A torture that would leave Severus begging for a mercy that would never come. But, was there a fate worse than the one he had already assigned himself?

He had lied, he had inflicted pain on the innocent. Had ended their lives. Any retribution would be what he deserved and nothing more.

He rolled, burying both himself and his thoughts further beneath the blankets. Cloaking his despair, his guilt in the warmth of the bed. He hoped that one day he could bury this pain inside him, that the scab wouldn’t be so near the surface, so readily torn off. But, it would not be tonight, not in this place with its incessant humming despite the lack of a nearby train.

The thought made him open his eyes. It had never been a train; the sound had never been related to muggles at all. Instead, floating in the air above him was a being of mist, the pale blue of moonlight filtering through his window. It expanded, stretching before collapsing in on itself, the shape of it ever changing.

He hadn’t seen one of these in some time and even his own was hardly corporeal, little more than a burst of light. But, this one, it was strong, even if it hadn’t taken on a shape. It had been created with such undeniable happiness it formed an ache within him.

Severus fumbled for his wand, the palm of his hand feeling the small table beside him. He felt it, smooth beneath his skin, supple. He sat, the weight of the blankets sliding from his thinly clothed body as he aimed the tip of his wand. “_Venia Sermo_.”

Blue poured from his wand, jetting across the room to meet the patronus. The magic collided, the molecules of the patronus rearranging itself into a bleary shape. A screech of torment blasted it apart, tearing at the soul of the conjuring until the happiness that had once comprised it hung in shreds.

Severus slapped his hands over his ears, trying to mask the agony coming from a voice he knew all too well. It was interspersed with infant cries, with a high-pitched cackle, then nothing. Silence fell and the magic dissipated, leaving him in pitch black once more.

He was standing, stuffing his legs into previously discard trousers before any semblance of a thought could be formed. His fingers trembled on the button and he cursed beneath his breath. Every second it took was time away from her and every part of it mattered. He pushed it through the hole finally before forcing his arms through the sleeves of his robes and his feet into a pair of heavy boots.

He ignored the laws of apparition. He had only been to Godric’s Hollow once, the designated points of travel had been long forgotten, but he found he didn’t care. There wasn’t time for a jaunt through neighborhoods, down side streets. The Dark Lord was _there_. Severus wasn’t sure he had time at all. He spun on the spot; the Potter’s address etched in his mind

It was silent, any disruption had passed long ago. The autumn air nipped at his exposed skin, carrying his long hair back behind his shoulders. From afar it seemed to be a night like any other, unextraordinary. Children had long ago been tucked beneath their covers, and he knew that the Potter boy should be the same. But, he had heard the cries, the sharp desperation that filled the spaces around Lily’s own. And, now, Severus stood on the front walk, pieces of stone, of drywall strewn about the ground at his feet, and there was nothing coming from inside.

His wand slid from his sleeve, falling into place in his palm, the wood finding the well-worn calluses they had created. His arm was held aloft, prepared as he entered through the doorway, passing over bits of splintered wood.

There was no indication of how the Potters had lived. It was buried beneath decay, chunks of furniture, walls, everything that had once occupied this space had been blown apart.

Severus’ footsteps were heavy, carrying him unwillingly through the home. He felt as though he’d fallen in a patch of quicksand, each step harder to take as a fell a little deeper into the despair that had been created here.

There, at the foot of the stairs, lay a body bathed in darkness. In shadow and dried blood. Iron. It invaded his nostrils, dredging forth experience as he knelt on the carpet, glass digging into his knees. The glasses on James’ face had been cracked and lay crooked upon his nose. His eyes stared upward through them, seeing nothing. Severus didn’t need to touch him to know that he had passed. There was no rise and fall of his chest, no movement whatsoever, and the puddle of scarlet the man laid in was too large for any person to survive.

He moved forward, his movements the only sound in a house that had been full of life only minutes ago. One that was now too empty. His hand trailed the railing as he took the stairs, feeling the cracks of spells that had run through it, the chunks that were missing entirely. He heard the breaking of debris beneath him as he stepped, destruction having reached every corner of this place.

There had been a struggle, that much was clear. The Potters had tried their best, an attempt that would never be enough against the Dark Lord. But, it was seen. Seen in the walls that had caved in on themselves, in the way James had died, wand still in hand, in the scent of smoldering wood that indicated a fire had been cast.

Lily had always had a fascination with it, the blue the danced inside the brilliant orange, the potential for destruction it held in each flame, and the ability to keep one safe, warm despite it. And it was Lily, he guessed, that he could see just ahead.

Light spilled from the doorway at the end of the hall, artificial, yellow, not that of a lumos. In its glow lay a pale arm, fingers limp. He felt himself begin to fragment. Felt the pieces of his heart, his mind, everything holding him up crack. Felt himself threaten to fall away, to mingle with the destruction beneath his feet, yet he moved forward. Step after heavy step.

At the doorway, she came fully into view, her body crumpled unnaturally, red hair tangled about her face. He wanted to fall beside her, to draw her into her arms. He had been too late. His eyes drifted still, to the cot, to the miniature body that lay still within, the vacant eyes.

The final split within him came, spreading through his legs, his spine, until he was there beside her. His vision blurred, heat growing within them before spilling down his cheeks. His arm slid beneath her neck, her head falling to one side as he pulled her close.

She was warm. How long had it truly been? The cold fingers of death had yet to close around her, to steal the heat inside of her. His grip loosened as he blinked the bleariness from his eyes. A hand snaked up her, brushing the tangle of red away from her neck as he pressed his fingers to her carotid. _Thump._ It beat beneath his fingers, feeble, but there all the same. _Thump._ It was his voice that broke this time as his lips found the shape of her name, whispered against her skin. She was alive.

His fingers slid between the bars of the cot, hoping for the same, but it seemed that only one had survived tonight. He drew his wand, a spell of protection springing forth, a ward forming along the property line. He would be back, there would be bodies to bury, but first he had to ensure she didn’t become a third. For a second time that night, he dispparated, the two of them vanishing in the cold, Halloween air.


	2. Beneath the Tide

It was warm. So warm. The flickering flames of a bonfire, the heat of a summer day. And she was enveloped in it. Wrapped so tightly in the safety net of evening black. Pressed into the darkness of comfort. She wanted to stay here, beneath the mountain of blankets that had been pulled up to her nose, had all but consumed her. It was safe here, even if James’ arm was absent across her. Her fingers twitched, searching reflexively for her husband’s fingers, his body stretched out beside hers. What she found instead were bones that refused to cooperate, muscles that begged her not to move, and – perhaps most importantly – the edge of the bed.

Lily’s eyes fluttered, a weight, a fog pressing down on her lids. The wave of a current she had fought for too long now trying to drag her beneath. Her head swam with images that didn’t make sense, memories, perhaps dreams that had been pulled from the sediment beneath her, the silt of which now swirling, unplaceable.

Flashes of green, searing across her vision, blinding her before she could produce a spell of her own. Scarlet spilling across her skin, clawing at her throat as she drew the scent of it in. It was a smell she had become uncomfortably familiar with on Dumbledore’s battlefield. The color that filled her vision gave her more than the memory of blood, but of eyes as well. Crimson, simmering with a hatred she couldn’t understand. And, last of all, black.

Her breath fought to free itself from her lungs, trapped inside of her by panic. Lily’s eyes opened fully, settling on unfamiliarity. The blankets, once a comfort, were now binders, pinning her to a place she had never been. It was hands that were on her next, made rough with callouses, the touch gentle but insistent. Familiar. She fought against them, scratched at the pale flesh that was pressed to her own, but it did her no good.

Lily moved, her head tilting backwards, her gaze moving up and onto the face of her attacker. Absent eyes, an expressionless face. She felt glass pressed against her lips, smooth and cool in contrast to the liquid that burned down her throat, sharp, intense. She sputtered at the taste as the potion seeped from the emptiness of her stomach and into her veins.The calming draught taking away any fight she had left.

She felt the heaviness of before return, felt the weight return just enough to ease her fighting, to batter her adrenaline laced heart beat. And she didn't understand. 

The corners of her eyes pricked, her vision blurring from what she had been given. Through it, she studied the harsh lines of Severus' face, the dim room that seemed illuminated behind his gloom. Lily remembered just enough. Enough to know she shouldn't be here, not with him.

"Severus," her lips shaped the letters of his name. They felt unfamiliar in her mouth, as a memory long forgotten, although he was painfully present as she pleaded out to him. "What have you done?"

She watched for the clenching of his jaw, the jump of a flexed muscle along his cheek. It was the expression of shame, hidden beneath layers of control. But, the mask he wore now was different than the one she had known. 

He shifted. Like liquid, waves caressing the shore. Slow then there all at once, crashing upon her. She flinched beneath the touch he placed on her arm, fear beneath a person she no longer knew. 

Her free hand searched reflexively along the cotton sheets, desperate for a wand she knew wouldn't be there. Had Severus been there all along? Waiting in the shadows to take her? Had he worn her like some prize?

She'd been taken, her wand stolen, drugged, and Harry… Oh, Godric,  _ Harry. _

Lily pushed through the fog that was enveloping her more with each second. She begged her body to obey and found herself flailing beneath his touch, fighting to strike out against his flesh. She heard the quiet thuds of her fists against his clothing, the resounding sound of flesh against flesh, and still, he remained beside the bed.

Severus didn’t fight, didn’t attempt to tame her. His wand hand remained slack at his side, wandless. She wasn’t a threat, and they both knew it. She kicked, one that she knew would hurt him. The foot closest to where he stood slid from beneath the covers, the cold air of night snaking across her bare skin. In one swift motion, she drew it between his legs, kicking upwards with all the might the potion he had forced on her would allow. It was enough.

An exhale of breath escaped him upon impact as he crumpled in on himself, bent in two by pain. She freed herself from the prison of blankets, swinging both legs over the side of the bed. Her bare feet met the cool wood floor beneath it, and she found herself running, wobbling down the length of the room. 

Her vision swam, the edges tinted black, but the door was sketched in her mind’s eye. Her escape. Lily leaned against the wall as exhaustion, pain washed over her, knocking the breath from her chest with a torrential wave. The sight of green eyes, just like her own, of messy black hair, cheeks that jiggled with laughter made her push forward.  _ For Harry.  _

Using the wall as support, she forced herself to move. Forced herself through the riptide of agony that would land her back in Severus’ arms. Lily didn’t dare look back. She didn’t think she could bare the soulless eyes staring after her, his arm outstretched to snatch the teal night dress that shimmied around her calves. 

At last, her hand landed across the cool, golden metal of the door knob. There was one thin layer of wood to escape. If she could just put it between her and Severus, she could survive. She pulled on the knob, felt it shake beneath her hand, but it remained firm. Locked.

Her arm dropped, her back landing heavily against the door as she slowly slid to the floor. Her chest rose and fell with sobs that were sharp against her dry throat. She let the darkness of before cave in, filling her vision with black as it had once already.. 

If Severus was keeping her here, had stolen her from her family, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to provide her with such a simple exit. The lock was more than a lever that had been turned on a doorknob, it was magical, one that he would have crafted himself. One that she couldn’t have broken had she had a wand to arm herself. And it wasn’t the only spell in place. She could hear the gentle hum of a silencing spell lingering around the edge of the room. It was, she suspected, to keep anyone from hearing her screams.

“Are you done?” His voice was tight, strangled by the pain she had caused him moments before. Dripping in frustration. 

“Why are you keeping me prisoner?” The words broke from her throat, fractured and barely strung together, but she lobbed them at him anyway. She deserved an answer, even if she couldn’t look at his face while she asked. Instead, her lids remained closed, her hands twisted in her lap.

“Prisoner?” He scoffed, letting only seconds of confused silence stretch between them. “Go then, if that’s what you’d like.” The lock above her clicked, sliding open. “There will be no escaping the Dark Lord a second time. He’ll spare you the privilege of death.”

“Tell me you aren’t light headed,” he continued. “That you could even survive long enough to leave this building when you could hardly make it to the doorway.” He shook his head, unimpressed by her crumpled frame upon the floor. “How do you expect to flee from the Dark Lord when you can’t even stand?”

She remained frozen, his words heavy in her potion addled mind. She watched as he straightened, his shoulders pressing back. He towered over her. Taller than she ever remembered. As she looked at him, she wasn’t sure if this was the boy that she had known. The runt from Spinner’s End. No, this Severus had been swallowed by darkness, chewed up by evil, and spat back into this world as the person he told her he would never be. 

Lily was terrified of everything about him. As he stepped closer to her a second time, every nerve in her body fired. Told her to run. To take the escape he had provided. But, perhaps he could provide her more. 

She pressed into the door once more, using the pressure to stand, to level herself against him. “You’re convinced I can’t take care of myself, that I need your protection.” She raised her chin, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “When will you understand that I don’t want you in my life?” 

There it was, the flicker of agitation she had searched for before. This time, she found it in the clenching of his fingers as they hung by his side. “Take me back to my family.” Her own jaw grew tight with anger, anger at the assumptions he had made. 

She felt the grip of his hand on her wrist once more, cold. Perhaps he was more than just dead on the inside. But, there was no yank behind her belly button. No attempt of an apparition. There was only calm, a stillness stretched between the syllables of his voice. “The wounds you sustained were more than just physical.” He lifted the hand that he held, allowing her to see the raw, newly grown flesh that ran along it in ripples. “Your memory of the night has been compromised by injury. It is best that you rest, for now.”

“Take me  _ back.”  _ Lily commanded, the words venomous, desperate. She had no time for his excuses. “It’s the least you can do seeing as you’ve stolen my wand.”

“There is no where for you to return. No family pleading for your return.” 

She stared. Surely words had lost all meaning. There was no other reason that he would be stringing such things together otherwise. James was there, she knew it. Bouncing Harry on his hip, wearing a path into the already worn shag carpet as he awaited her return. He’d have sent Sirius out looking for her, Remus too. Only after they convinced him he needed to stay. He was  _ waiting _ for her inside their cottage in Godric’s Hollow. Inside the home and the life they had chosen for themselves.

Trapped in these thoughts, she had grown unaware of the hold he placed on her, that his arm had come around her waist as if he suspected an impending break down 

“Remember, Lily. It’s there.”

And it was, she believed him. It was there in fragments, the edges so fuzzed that the pieces of her puzzle no longer fit together. There were snippets, left stranded in her memory in places that didn’t make sense. Shades of iridescent green that contrasted against one other, of black as well. There was the sensation of falling, of capture. Each of these snapshots had been stacked, pierced by a triumphant screech. The images that had come to her in wakefulness had been more than just a dream.

She squeezed her eyes shut, the image of her son permeating the blackness behind her lids. She had sung to him, had laid him in his crib and left as he entered his dreams. It was a moment of perfection that now lay shattered, weighted by the choices of another. And she understood. 

Lily collapsed, slipping beneath the undertow with a final gasp of had beens. He had slipped from this earth, faded into the night when she had promised him otherwise. Everything she had done, every spell she had cast had been pointless. He had been stolen from her just the same, and James had accompanied him to the beyond. They had left her.

She felt her heart crack, felt the split that ran along her chest. Her fingers bunched on the fabric of Severus’ clothes. A desperation that she if she clung to him hard enough, he would keep her afloat. The reality was that she was already drowning and Severus held the answer to why. 

  
  
  



End file.
